Character, Crime, and Punishment

Recently, I was forced to perform as the subsection, “Disciplinarian” under the broader role and responsibility of “Father.” This is a hat that although fits me quite snug, I absolutely hate wearing. It breaks my heart to discipline my kids and to be the one to teach them the life lesson of consequences. The irony is that I’m about to use the World Wide Web to discuss the nature of my son’s offense when, as a child, I loathed the fact that after not sparing the rod my mother would get on the phone and tell her girlfriend’s about it. I understand now that she wasn’t bragging about her physical prowess over me, instead she was looking for confirmation that she did the right thing because her heart was breaking.

Currently, I’m writing from a hotel room in the Midwest and my son is nestled in Southern California, living, playing, and apparently practicing skills I hope he never uses again. I received a phone call a couple of days ago that was obviously prompted by his mother. I could hear her voice in the background encouraging my son to “Tell your father” what he did. The next voice I heard was that of my oldest, Jordan trembling as he informed me that he forged his mother’s signature on a homework log that was supposed to be signed by a parent and turned in earlier that morning. I was furious! “Off with his head” was my first reaction. This is one of those situations that, as a parent, you punish out of fear more than anger; both are equally dangerous.

Hypocrite, thy name is Anthony.

So I began to verbally chastise my twelve year old on the immoral, illegal, and downright disgusting behavior he engaged in. As I spoke, I could hear his breathing quicken and I could only imagine that he was terrified of the pending consequences. I even hit him with the coveted, “I’m so disappointed in you.” What I did not tell my son was that when I was around his age I too dabbled in the art of deceit known as forgery. I remember getting a poor grade on an assignment and rather than give it to my mother for signature I practiced her difficult autograph in my room late into the night. So late, in fact, that I fell asleep with pages of evidence scattered all around me. When my mother came into my room to suggest I get in bed she reacted out of the same fear.

His mother got on the phone and we both were extremely upset. I have to say that I am very lucky because my ex-wife and I are still very much partners when it comes to raising our son. We see eye to eye on most things and respect each other enough to confront the other when we don’t. I had already handed down the punishment before she took the phone. We have been planning a camping trip for the past couple of months and I decreed that Jordan would not be able to go. The camping trip being his idea, he was devastated. His mother agreed with me that not allowing him to attend the camping trip was just. I was still reeling at the fact that he would do something so devious and asked her exactly how it all happened.

Here’s where things get sticky.

Periodically, Jordan receives a “homework log” from his math teacher that shows all of his recent assignments and the grades he received, including incompletes. The idea, of course, is to keep parents informed of their child’s progress throughout the semester. Jordan had some missing assignments, which his mother and I knew about and turning in the log was an assignment as well. Before he brought home the log to be signed, we warned him that we were not going to tolerate another missing assignment. Now I must explain that my son is the king, well let’s be honest, the prince of procrastination. The king is typing these words on to this page. He failed to get his mother’s signature and when faced with turning the log in that morning he made a decision that showed a complete and total lack of judgment. He knew that if he didn’t turn in the log he would receive another missing assignment and be punished. Because he waited so long to get a signature he signed it himself, copying his mother’s signature from another paper she had previously signed. He turned the paper in and his teacher wasn’t aware that he was handing in a forgery.

That same evening, Jordan and his mother were sitting at her kitchen table doing homework. After making her promise that she wouldn’t get mad, Jordan confessed his sin. He confessed without prompt or even the threat of getting caught. As a matter of fact, we later would learn that the teacher would not have even suspected him of a crime. Part of his punishment would be to go to school the next day and confess to his teacher as well. His mother told me that she had to look at the paper he signed again to realize that it wasn’t legit.

So here is my dilemma. The crime my son committed was wrong and needed to be dealt with severely. The character he displayed was refreshing and quite impressive. As judge and jury was I to take into consideration that his conscious wouldn’t allow him to get away with it?

At first, I stood my ground. I reasoned that just because someone has a conscious or moral obligation to himself doesn’t mean that the punishment shouldn’t fit the crime. Or does it?

I wrestled with this quite a bit. Melissa, my current wife, disagreed. She called me later that night and informed me that she was suffering from the same guilt that I was. She reminded me that Jordan knew what he did was wrong as displayed by his unsolicited confession. She also believed that if I came down too hard on him it might deter any future confessions. I might inadvertently teach him to ignore his conscious and roll the dice. So, I relented. Jordan will go on the camping trip this weekend and I thought of a more creative way to punish behavior I never want repeated. The punishment is still harsh enough to correct but lenient enough to reward his integrity.

I want my kids to understand that in life consequences are inevitable. I also want them to trust that their parents are understanding, yet firm. I only hope that this experience was enough to teach my son the lesson he was supposed to learn. I know I learn valuable lessons in patience, gratitude, and trust.

Laugh Without Reason

My kids have returned from their summer vacations and with them they have brought back laughter to our home. I’m not talking about the type of laughter that follows a funny joke or a one-liner on a television sitcom. I mean gut-wrenching, awkward, milk-out-the noise joy that only a child can summon. Their wild eyes and inappropriate innocence is what every house requires in order to truly breathe.

As a father, I won’t lie; I’ve often tried to kill that laughter by insisting that my kids “grow up!” My sons have felt the worst of this wrath because, as a man, I live in constant fear that they will come short of my own journey to manhood. Desperate for my boys to be twice the man I am, I often push them rather than allow them to lazily stroll out of their childhood at their own pace.

My youngest son Desmond has an imagination that would rival the set of any Hollywood studio. He creates in his mind characters and stories that astound me with realism. His outlook on life is so naïve it frightens me. It scares me that he sees none of the pain and cynicism in the world. It scares me that his mind only processes the very best in everyone and that he and his siblings find the laughter in all situations. It scares me because the world will never allow him to retain possession of his optimism. It scares me even more that what he sees reality and I have created a watered down version of truth.

My oldest son, Jordan attempts to be a man after my own skepticism. He peeks around corners and tiptoes through situations being always on the look out for a possible ambush. However, in moments of weakness he can be found hanging out with his younger sister and brother rolling on the floor engaged in an imaginative contest with rules that are just as ridiculous as the goal. He wants to be the teenager that gets lost down the corridor of gloom but the optimism of adolescence keeps clearing a path for elation. I feel for my son because though he teeters on the threshold of adulthood having equal passage back and forth from youth and maturity, eventually one door will close forever.

I feel like a hypocrite telling my kids that the world is theirs for the taking and in the same breathe warning them of the pitfalls of the very world they can soon possess. Work hard and no one can stop you! Of course, you should be careful because there are plenty of people who will try.

I hope I have not painted a picture of grim despair while the children are not present. My wife and I have a great time together but never with the amiable and carefree approach to life of my kids. Whenever they are all in the same room a game of make believe creates a fantastical world that only they can see but my wife and I can enjoy. My wife and I have sat and listened to them describe the vivid and colorful world around them that we often only see in black and white. With broad-brush strokes they paint the world with colors such as happiness, joy, wonder, and delight. We are the audience with a front row ticket to the happiest show on earth, the pure and untouched perception of life through the eyes of children.

Tomorrow I think I will take an early day and ask my kids to show me a glimpse of a world that I haven’t in a very long time. With any luck they can teach to me to laugh uncontrollably and absolutely without reason.

Blessed...

For the past two and half years, I have had the pleasure and utter privilege of sharing the responsibility of parenting with my wife.  We are a blended family in every sense of the word and of course, along with any blend there are subtle nuances that must be mastered in order to achieve an acceptable flow that's pleasing to the senses.  I entered the relationship with one child who would eventually become a big brother, a role although he is suited for, he does not take willingly.  My wife presented two beautiful children, a boy and a girl that would become my son's siblings and my "kids."

We share a sentiment that was introduced in my lineage that the concept of step-parenting would not be used in our house.  I often tell my children that the only "steps" in our house are the ones that lead to the front door.  This forced family oneness comes with it's own set of issues and dilemmas.  For the most part we have made the smooth transition from single households to a single household.  I love watching these children grow and in a often times voyeuristic fashion watching as life shapes and molds their individualism and personalities.

My oldest is the introverted jock.  The kid in high school we all knew was special but he rarely spoke of such greatness and his shyness (not humbleness) wouldn't allow himself to brag or boast of his achievements.  My youngest son has developed a middle child view of life that causes him to long for the spot of "the baby" while demanding the privileges of the oldest.  His personality speaks for his character and his outgoing nature allows him to speak to absolutely anyone.  He is bold in his demeanor and craves the spotlight by any means necessary.  Our youngest and only girl is just that.  She relishes in her many roles as "the only."  The only girl, the only one with a t.v. in her room, the only one who doesn't have to take out the trash, the only one who...etc.  

Yes, my wife and I are completely to blame for the double standards we have set in our home and we sleep at night with the comfort of knowing that life will repeat these standards throughout their lives.  For now we keep things fair only because we define fairness.  We act as judge, jury and unwilling participant.  My wife and I have learned to refrain from looking to heaven asking God silly questions such as, "what are we going to do about these kids?"  Instead, we make thought provoking statements, "Lord, you made them...teach us to raise them."

He listens and with every smile, accomplishment, goal, and gut wrenching laugh...He answers...